


the maker's mark

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Bobbi is Aphrodite, F/M, Hunter is Hephaestus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: No one expects the goddess of beauty and love to be enamored with god of the forge and the flame. (Everyone is wrong.)





	the maker's mark

There’s a secret on the mountain; it is well kept, for no one cares to look for it.

The secret?

She loves her husband-to-be.

Everyone thinks it is a punishment, to be tied to the god of the forge and fire, whose wit is dull and whose mind is plagued with demons. They think there is nothing worse in their immortal life than to be tied to someone with a bitter tongue and a heart of stone.

They don’t understand love the way she does. She  _ is _ love - she commands it, she protects it, she shelters it from the wind and the rain, and yes, the fire too. But even if she wasn’t, and even if she didn’t, she would still understand the god she is to marry loves her above all else. She sees it in the way he turns his face to her when she walks in the room, the manner in which he speaks to her, and how he never fails to kiss her hand before she leaves.

His lips leave behind smears of soot more often than not. The other say he mars her beauty; she knows he enhances it.

He always insists she wait until sundown to visit him in the forges. She humors him, not because she is ashamed of his love, but because she wants him to know she understands. She hopes one day he will welcome her at high noon when all can see them, but today does not have to be that day. She can be patient when she wants. And when she is with him? Oh, she  _ wants _ .

All the forges are cool save one, where her intended sits alone. There is a pile of half-finished projects beside him; swords without edges and arrows without points. 

Her lover has never favored war.

He straightens when he hears her steps but doesn’t turn around. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Whyever not?” Her voice is light, but there is fear in it too. She has spent so long convincing him they will be alright together, and this is not a curse to her. She doesn’t want him to push her away.

“Because I’m making something for you, and it’s supposed to be a surprise.” He swivels to look at her, smiling that damnable smile that always makes her knees go weak.

“You know I’m not good at surprises.” She sidles closer until she can reach out to curl her fingers around the back of his neck. They have not married yet, but anyone who believes he is not already hers in every way is mistaken.

“You’ll have to be patient for this one.” 

“Lance…” She sticks her lip out in a pout. He has never been good at resisting her when she looks at him like this.

“Bob.” He’s unperturbed. “Seven days and you’ll know.”

“Seven days is too long!” It feels even longer when everyone is making comments about how she ought to enjoy her last days of freedom. She doesn’t want them - she wants to go home to her husband when her work is done, to lie with him and hear his whispers of love when the night is dark. She does not want this half-life any longer.

“Can I stay?” She asks when it’s clear he’s not going to give in.

“As long as you don’t try to see what I’m doing.” He knows her too well.

Bobbi sits near his feet, by the pile of rejects. She picks up one of the arrows, twirling it between her fingers. It’s almost entirely finished - Hunter’s even etched his maker’s mark onto the shaft - but ultimately it hasn’t passed muster.

“I wish they would stop asking me for weapons,” Hunter says unprompted. He must’ve noticed her looking. For all that everyone says her husband is dull, Bobbi thinks he is sharper than any weapon he’s crafted. He knows what people are doing, what they are thinking, what they are feeling. She is a master at hiding her emotions, but he can read her like an open book.

“So do I.” She sees the toll it takes on Hunter to know he has a hand in people dying, and she doesn’t like it. Besides, there is little love in war - at least this kind of war.

Hunter’s turned back to his work, and from the way he’s hunched Bobbi guesses it’s something small. She considers trying to peer over his shoulder, but then he’d just make her leave, and she doesn’t want that. Even when they don’t talk, being in his presence gives her peace. He doesn’t expect her to perform the way everyone else does. He does not expect her to be the goddess of beauty, or of love - but he thinks she is beautiful and he loves her anyway.

She does not expect anything of him, either. She thinks he knows this, and that is why they fit together so beautifully.

He finishes his work and finally turns all the way to her, inviting her into him with a tilt of his head. Bobbi perches herself on her betrothed’s lap, smiling down at him.

She has waited too long already to kiss him, and she fits her lips against his easily, cradling Hunter’s head in her hand. His mouth tastes like gold and ashes - it should be unpleasant, but all Bobbi can find in his kiss is love and fire.

“Shall we make a scandal?” 

“Always,” Bobbi answers, shivering in anticipation of what her fiancé will do. He fits his lips against her jawline and drags them down her throat; Bobbi flushes and shivers at the same time, wondering about the relative merits of waiting until her wedding night to debauch her lover. No one would have to know…

Hunter licks a stripe up her collarbone, and Bobbi presses her thighs together. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Just giving you something to look forward to at week’s end.”

She kisses him again, harder this time - being married to him by the end of the week will be prize enough.

\---

She stands at an altar with the man she loves, feeling lighter than she has in a long while.

There were many whispers when Bobbi had left the forge with soot wrapped around her throat like a necklace, but no one has asked her what happened that night. They would rather continue to believe in her misery, even if she has told them a hundred times it’s not the truth.

The ceremony is short, a formality at best. Bobbi would resent it more if she weren’t happy for the outcome.

Hunter is finally, blessedly, her husband. They walk together from the pavilion to his home, adjacent to the forges. Bobbi’s breath keeps catching in her chest, her lungs unable to keep up with the rest of her body. She doesn’t care, because every time her breath catches her husband looks at him with eyes like molten gold and asks her if she’s alright.

She will never grow weary of his concern. She will never tire of his hand in hers.

It is not what anyone else thinks she wants, but since when has anyone else cared for her thoughts, her feelings? They think she is just a pretty face.

He thinks she is a pretty heart.

Hunter stops her when they’re in the front room of his house - their house.

“It’s time to give you what I made you,” he announces. He reaches into the pocket of his tunic and pulls out a golden ring. It’s simultaneously simple and intricate; two bands twisted together. Bobbi offers Hunter her hand, and he slides the ring on carefully. It’s a perfect fit, of course.

Hunter kisses her knuckles softly and releases her hand so she can inspect the ring more closely. She’s looking for his maker’s mark - she hasn’t a clue where it would fit on the tiny thing around her finger.

She finally finds it in the divet of one of the bands, but the mark is different than the one she remembers. Hunter’s mark is simple, just a fire, but this is more than that.

“It’s a phoenix,” he explains, noting her confusion. 

A bird on fire. How appropriate.

(A rebirth. How appropriate.)

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” Hunter grabs her hand, kissing it again. “For making me better.”

Bobbi’s heart swells in her chest. She takes his hand in hers, noticing the way the ring catches in the light. They may try their best to forget she is in love with her husband, but it is a secret no more. He’s marked her.

Together they enter his bedroom, and by night’s end, he has marked her in more ways than one.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://huntxngbxrd.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
